


Tientsin and Big

by tabaqui



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Age Regression/De-Aging, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-27 15:05:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1714925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tabaqui/pseuds/tabaqui
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tientsin:  It's 1900, and Tientsin, China, burns as the Boxer Rebellion rages.  A Slayer stalks Drusilla and Spike through the streets and Darla gives Angelus an ultimatum - kill or be exiled from his family.  That's where things...twist a little.  We end in Sunnydale, not long after 'The Pack'.</p>
<p>Big: Evil witches (not the good, fluffy kind) curse Spike and Xander with being 'big' - mental age regression and amnesia.   Tara, Willow and Giles to the - sort of - rescue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tientsin and Big

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to post these both together, as they're not *that* long. There was going to be still-a-little-bit-hyena!Xander, and pack-wanting, and Spike/Xander fun, and Angelus trying to help Buffy with Spike and Dru trailing around, and...well. All sorts of things I just can't quite *remember*, anymore.
> 
> And wow, I have *no* clue where I was going with 'Big', since Spike couldn't exactly go outside and run around in the sun....

'Tientsin'

 

Tientsin was on fire. The Japanese had been shelling for days and the Grand Canal was thick with tugs and little boats shipping the wounded down to Teku. The Russians had a lock on the rail station and the British were still serving tea.

But the fire and the screaming were lovely, and there was a thick reek of fear and misery in the air. Spike guided Drusilla through the streets at a waltz; turn, step, step, dip and sway and turn again. Pause for a brief refreshment. The Boxers seemed to be losing, but then - they _had_ been, all up and down the line. Spike had no doubt that they would ultimately lose everything. China was too rich a plum for the ten or twelve foreign nations who claimed interest here to let her revert. Her thighs, Spike mused, had been forced wide by the Americans and the Italians and the French - they would _stay_ that way, through blood and screams.

"Do you think if you were very, very careful you could make it so they would scream only one note?" Dru looked up from the slim boy whose throat she was licking. "Can you imagine, Spike, how lovely a choir that would make, pretty boys like this all screaming in tune..." Dru looked down at the limp body and let the boy slide to the ground. He'd run across the trash-strewn street like a swallow, duck and dive and dart. But all his fluid grace was gone now and he folded into an awkward tangle, head lolling, sightless eyes half-open and rolling up white. "Of course, they'd have to be cut," Dru went on, her hand reaching out and cupping Spike through his trousers. She gave a short, sly tug at his sac. "Don't want them intact."

"I think it would take a lot of work, poppet, and I'm too lazy for that right now." Spike caught her fingers and laced them with his, tugging her into motion. Halfway across the street they had to dodge out of the way of a runaway dray, empty barrels rattling off the flat bed and tumbling across the cobblestones as the oxen plunged and bellowed. Three men scurried after it, trying to catch the oxen and only succeeding in spooking them further. Up the street came the sudden, rapid chatter of gunfire. 

Something moved in the doorway of the shop half a block up and Spike's gaze stopped there for a moment, assessing. Whatever it was seemed to wish to be invisible and that made Spike grin. Nothing like flushing out the unwilling. But Dru was tugging his hand and he shrugged and abandoned his stalk, ignoring the prickling between his shoulder blades that had been there all night. Whatever it was that was watching them would come out, sooner or later. He was ready - he was _always_ ready.

"Grandmama said to meet her at nine o'clock - is it nine o'clock, Spike? I've lost my time piece."

"Don't remember you having one, love," Spike said, sliding his arm around her waist and getting them headed toward the East gate. Darla had a house there, she said - said she had something to show them. 

"Oh, yes, that lovely gold watch I took from that fat man at the chapel? It played a little tune -" Dru started to hum, jumbled notes a little off-key and Spike kicked a corpse aside - helped Dru manage her white skirts over a puddle of blood and mud. It had rained the night before, hot rain in a hot, stinking city and Spike was starting to get tired of this place. Revolution in the streets was all well and good, but the place _stank_ ; stank of the unburied dead and the silty canal and the coal everyone cooked with. Spike was fairly sure not one person in the city had had a bath in at least a fortnight and the plumbing was less than primitive in the face of the siege. The oppressive reek of _humanity_ was starting to make him snarl at every little thing. 

Whatever Darla had in mind tonight, that was it. Tomorrow at dusk he and Dru would find a train going south - or, baring that, one of the tugs that was transporting the wounded - and go down to Shanghai. Find passage somewhere a bit more...well, civilized. Spike wanted some new boots - wanted to spend a little of the gold they'd amassed and all the shops in Tientsin were bombed out - burning - boring. America or the Mediterranean - one of the two. Since Angelus had scarpered, Spike's desire to please Darla was at an all-time low and only Dru's persistent loyalty to her 'grandmama' kept him near her.

"Something's following us," Dru whispered, her lips brushing Spike's ear. Stirring the hair that he'd let grow long enough to pull back into a queue.

"Has been for a while, love. Reckon it'll show itself?"

"Ooh..." Dru paused to examine a broken shop window. "I think it'll show its true colors soon enough. Scarlet and silver, Spike. Scarlet and silver." Dru climbed through the window and wrestled a blood-red coat off a wicker dummy and put it on, smoothing the sleeves. "Now I look like Christmas," she said, and gave a little twirl.

"You look lovely. Best step lively now, though - Darla's waiting." 

"With a treat! I just know it." Dru let Spike help her over the sill and they walked away arm in arm. The shadow...prickled, and Spike flashed a fanged grin. The mouse thought it was the cat. It would soon learn better.

 

The house Darla had taken over hadn't suffered much from the fighting and they slipped through the door and down the hall, the scent of blood coming faintly from what looked to be a closet. There was something else, too - a shiver in the air, familiar and alien at the same time. Dru stiffened on Spike's arm even as Spike felt his eyes go wide and shock run like a dash of cold water all through him, all thought of the shadow driven right out of his head.

" _Angelus_?" The dark figure by the fire turned and Spike felt a welcoming, incredulous grin stretch his mouth. "Where in bloody hell have you _been_ , old man?" Dru had dropped his arm and was standing very still, her hands coming, trembling, up to her temples. Spike let her go and strode across the floor, pulling Angelus into a hard embrace. "Darla wouldn't be anything but sodding mysterious, saying you had 'things' - what bloody things?"

Angelus was stiff in his arms for a moment and then he moved - hugged back, his hand coming heavy and strong to the nape of Spike's neck. The air was thick and all but vibrating with _Angelus Angelus_ but.... Something else there, too - something new. Angelus' grip loosened and he backed away, a serious look on his face. Spike kept one hand on his arm, squeezing just a little.

"William, I -"

"Oh... _nooo_...." Wail of pure panic from Dru, and Spike jerked around to stare at her, his hand sliding loose from Angelus' arm. Oh _no_ , oh no, no no!" 

Spike practically leapt across the room to catch Dru as she went to her knees. "Dru, love, what is it? What's wrong?"

"She can feel it. Like I can. Like _you_ could, William, if you would just stop _talking_ for one damn minute." Darla emerged from the shadows, her mouth grim and thin, a basket in her hands. 

"Feel _what_? Dru - tell me -"

"Oooh, it's Daddy, poor Daddy, oh Spike - in him like a burning hot coal, like ice and fire wound up in thorns -" Dru shuddered in Spike's grasp, her eyes wide and blank and unseeing, her hands curling into claws and coming up to dig into her cheeks. 

Spike batted her hands away, holding her close. "Angelus? What's - going on? There's something -"

"It's his _soul_ , his filthy human soul - can't you _smell_ it? Like offal." Darla's eyes blazed fierce gold. She drew herself up tall, straight and stiff and chin going _up_ \- that superior smirk on her face that most often made Spike want to slap her. 

Angelus turned a hard look on her - came over to Spike and Dru and knelt awkwardly, reaching for Dru. She cringed, huddling into Spike's arms and Angelus' face fell. His fingers curled into fists for a moment and Spike hissed softly. 

"Damnit, Will - I wasn't -" Angelus hit his thigh with his fist, scowling, then he reached out very slowly and tucked a lock of Dru's hair back behind her ear. She sobbed, turning her head away. "It's true, though. T'was gypsies. They...cursed me. They gave me my soul back, William. Crammed it down my fucking throat!"

Spike stared into Angelus' eyes, absently catching and holding Dru's wrists. _Looking_ , and...he could see it. Shining in the depths, shimmer and flash like a school of silver minnows. He felt something, a painful twist of hurt and rage and fear in his breast. Wonder. "Angelus...a _soul_? Why did - what in hell happened? How did you piss off the bloody tinkers?"

"It doesn't matter how," Darla snapped, and Angelus turned a withering glare on her - one that made mortal and demon alike retreat. But not Darla. She held herself rigidly above them, the basket clasped so tightly in her hands that her knuckles were white - the tendons on the backs of her hands standing out in sharp relief. Something flickered in her gaze, some emotion that Spike couldn't name. It _looked_ \- like fear. When she spoke again, her voice was low and rasping - almost a whisper. "All that _matters_ -"

"It _does_ matter. He has a right to know!" 

Darla opened her mouth again, looking almost desperate, but Dru cried out like a slapped child, interrupting her.

"No, _please_ , don't - oh please don't." Dru twisted in Spike's arms and he lifted her up, holding her against him and gently brushing the hair back from her forehead. Angelus turned back to her, his face showing intense sorrow - bewilderment.

"Damnit, Dru... Can't you calm her, Will? You've learned the trick of it well enough."

"That's because I love her," Spike snapped, the old resentment and jealousy flaring in an instant - unease in the face of Darla's strange behavior. And Angelus looked away. _Looked away_. "Look - 'Gelus - what's going on? What's this about a curse?"

" _William_. There's something more important happening here," Darla snapped, and Dru twisted in Spike's arms, reaching for Angelus, her hands shaking.

" _Please_ do it, won't you please come back to us? We've missed you so _much_."

" _Yes_. Come back to us, Angelus - show us your true nature." Darla knelt swiftly, uncovering the basket and Spike looked askance at the blanket-swaddled infant that lay inside, blinking sleepily up at them. Spike sneered. Babies just weren't worth the effort for the scant mouthful of blood they held. But Darla had a thing for them. Something about innocence - about ultimate sacrilege. It was all, in Spike's mind, too boring for words. Fangs and fists, that's all that really mattered. He patted Dru absently, watching, bewildered, as Angelus' gaze flicked away from the basket. It skittered madly about the room, as if he were trying to escape something.

Darla smiled down at the baby - _smiled_ at Angelus, all little white teeth and scarlet lips, her ringed hand going out to cup Angelus' cheek. "You see? Such a little thing. Such a tiny - little thing." Her voice going from gravel to silk in a moment - her whole body curving toward Angelus in that way she had. That seduction that she had perfected, simple tilt of her chin and curve of her neck, the slope of her shoulders. Even Spike - wasn't immune. "You know you can, my darling boy - you know you _want_ to."

Angelus was all but panting for breath and his voice, when it came, was strained and rough - too high. "Darla, can you not just -"

" _No_ , I cannot just!" Darla reached into the basket and lifted the baby, who immediately started to squall. She shot to her feet, the baby dangling by one hand. Her chin going up and out again, neck stretching tall as she glared down at Angelus - at _all_ of them. "You have to _fight_ it, Angelus!" 

Dru made a crooning noise down in her throat. "Oh, let me, grandmama! Let me hold it! Precious little morsel..." Dru held out her hands, struggling out of Spike's grasp and up onto her knees, but Darla ignored her - fumbled at the swaddling around the baby and bared its flushed, fat-rolled torso.

"It's for your daddy, Drusilla. It's his last chance." Darla had a little smile on her face - an arch little tilt to her head and Angelus seemed to shrink away from her. He pushed himself clumsily to his feet, backing away one step and then two and Spike wanted to snap at him - to _slap_ him. Wanted him to tell Darla to go to fucking hell.

"Darla, don't you see? I can't! I just...can't." Angelus raked his hand back through his hair, taking another step away from Darla - from all of them. "You don't fucking understand, woman! Don't understand a damned _thing_." Angelus was glaring at her, fists clenched under the torn lace of his shirt. All but trembling like a dog being backed into a corner.

"I understand that you made a promise to me, Angelus," Darla hissed. She advanced slowly on Angelus as he backed away and the strident howls from the baby increased, making them all flinch just a little. "You swore you'd prove yourself to me. You _swore_ that you would do what I asked, so I would take you back." 

Spike stared up at Angelus in astonishment, seeing the look of rage and helplessness on his face. The _fear_. He felt his human guise shifting away and he stood as well, letting Dru stay there on her knees, arms held out to the baby, or Darla. To the stars, for all he knew. "Take him back? What does he mean, Darla? You said you had important things going, the sodding Master and..."

"Oh god, just shut up!" Darla snapped and Spike growled, advancing another step. Angry and afraid himself at the chaotic emotions coming from both of them.

Angelus looked frantically between Darla and Spike, back almost to the wall, now. "I - I promised that...I would -"

"That he'd _kill_! That he'd kill for me." Darla looked down at the baby, her vampiric aspect shifting to the fore. "You _swore_ it, Angelus!" She closed the small distance between them, reaching up and taking Angelus' jaw in her hand. Sinking her nails into his flesh - _making_ him look down. Making him meet her gaze. "I've been patient - I've been so _damn_ patient even though your grizzling and whining makes me _ill_. It's time to keep your promise." She shoved the baby into his chest and Angelus recoiled, his shoulders hitting the wall.

"Angelus, what in bloody hell is going on!"

"I do kill, Darla - you saw! I've killed -"

"Rapists! _Murderers_! So-called evildoers. And when you can't find them? _Rats_. Angelus, living on rats!" Darla laughed suddenly, slightly hysterically and the baby _screamed_ , its face red and twisted and awful. She shook Angelus' skull - let him go only to slap him, snapping his head around. "Can you imagine that, William? The great Angelus, stalking rats and cats and little lap dogs? Can you?" Angelus just _stood_ there, head down and shoulders hunched. 

Spike strode to Darla and snatched the baby away - turned and shoved it at Dru. "Make it be quiet, Dru, for God's sake! Can't think with all that racket." He turned back to Darla and Angelus, running his hand back through his hair. "Darla, I want a bloody explanation -"

"Will, don’t let Dru -"

"Don't let her what?" Darla put her hand in the middle of Angelus' chest, stopping his movement toward Dru. Behind Spike, the baby abruptly stopped crying. "Don't let her kill the little brat, like a _proper_ vampire?"

"It's just a wee _baby_ ," Angelus cried, agony in his voice and Darla tipped her head back and roared in fury, loud enough to make them all flinch. She snatched her skirts around her and walked rapidly toward the door. 

"It's just a _human_ , Angelus. It's nothing to a demon. A _real_ demon." She slammed out the door and into the fire-striped night and Spike looked back at Dru, who was crooning again. Stroking the baby's face and neck and lifting a red-smeared finger to her lips.

"Oh, God help me...Dru..." Angelus seemed to fold in on himself and he turned and leaned on a small japanned table in the corner, head bowed and eyes closed. Spike just stood there for a long moment, feeling almost dizzy from confusion. Nothing made any sense. Darla was - leaving them? Leaving Angelus and - Angelus with a _soul_... Spike shook his head with a snap. No. He'd puzzle this out later. Right now, he just wanted to get the hell out of this city - this revolution. He wanted to get back to civilization. And he wanted Angelus with them. Dru had missed him fiercely, and he knew she'd be devastated if Angelus left them again.

He might be jealous of the bastard, and what he meant to Dru...but it was her happiness that counted most. And he'd missed the damn bog-trotting bastard.

"Angelus..." Angelus shuddered and Spike lifted his hand, hesitating. Finally he let it drop, straightening his shoulders. The prickle was back. Their watcher, watching them again. Too close for comfort and he'd never felt less like fight then at that moment. "Never mind the sodding baby now, it's gone. Let's go down to the yards and get a car." Angelus shook his head slowly but Spike ignored him, leaning closer - trying to catch Angelus' gaze but Angelus refused to look up. Refused to see him. 

"They're still running the train south, we'll get to Shanghai by dusk tomorrow and find passage on a steamer - head back _home_. Out of this fucking stinking mess. What'd you say?" Finally, finally, he put his hand on Angelus' sleeve and just then the shadow - came in.

 

Spike woke with a start, blinking into darkness. The powerful hum of a car engine all around, rumbling up his spine like a tiger's purr. He untwisted himself from his coat and sat up, stretching. Outside was nothing much. Distant sprinkles of small-town lights like grains of sugar and the sky open and wide above them, velvet black and diamond dust. There was even a sliver of moon and for a moment it could have been any time - any where.

But it wasn't. It was America - California. It was nowhere, heading toward Angelus' bloody destiny or fate or his worst sodding idea _ever_ , Spike wasn't sure. He snorted softly to himself, feeling for his cigarettes and lighting up. In the front seat Dru was curled against Angelus' shoulder, humming softly to the radio. Trust Angelus to find some bloody soft-rock-pop-emo shite. It was Barry Manilow all over again, only more nasal.

"How far we got to go?" Spike asked, leaning forward and letting his hand drop onto Dru's hair, gently curling a lock around his fingers. 

"About a hundred miles," Angelus said, shifting a little in his seat. One hand on the wheel, his arm around Dru's shoulders and for a moment Spike felt...cold. Then Angelus turned his head a little, slow smile, and Spike shook his head. 

_Fool_. 

"Spike was dreaming about the Slayer. Dreaming about her blood. How it burned the tip of his tongue and how it...sang. Sang to his bones..." Drusilla pushed her head a little, rubbing into Spike's fingers and then Angelus' shoulder and Angelus lost his smile.

"About - about this Buffy? Spike, you -"

"Nah. Chinese Slayer, Angelus. Was dreaming about that night, is all." Spike took a long drag and grinned when Angelus cracked the window. "Told you, won't be messing with your new - project. Divine fucking grail or whatever the fuck she is to you. I'll get my hat-trick some other day." Angelus huffed, looking like he was going to start another lecture and Spike leaned forward, twisting the radio dial to something else. Something loud and alive and full of fucking noise. Mostly he said stuff like that to get on the great git's nerves. Worked every time.

Drusilla sat up, laughing, and Angelus smiled at her and Spike turned around, looking out the back window. His DeSoto was a quarter mile back, driven by that Dalton bloke they'd picked up in Prague. The one who was going to help them get Dru well again - maybe help sort the shite from the truth in the nonsense Whistler seemed to spout at Angelus every time they spoke.

_Pretty poor showing for Angelus, Drusilla, and William the Bloody_. But Angelus wanted them to come in low and to stay low - keep to the shadows, as if they had a bloody choice. There were rumors that the Master - Darla's sire and the oldest vampire of the line - was on the Hellmouth. Lurking or plotting or - something. Angelus hadn't heard news of him years, and Spike and Dru had never met him - he'd disappeared before they were even made. And good riddance, Spike thought, because the last thing he needed was another bloody great poufter thinking he was in charge.

Angelus said that whatever vamps they'd find at the Hellmouth they'd clear out. Mongrels, he called them, growling a little, and Spike had laughed and told him his lace curtain pretensions were showing. Which had earned Spike a thump that he'd given right back which had turned into...something else. Angelus fucked best when he was angry.

"There's all sorts of hidden plots and secrets in the Hellmouth," Dru said, tipping her head back and pursing her lips and Spike dropped a kiss on them. "Grave plots and story plots and...so _many_ wonderful little tricks and traps we're going to spring."

"Rather be springing the traps on _them_ ," Spike told her, and she caught his hand in her long fingers and guided his cigarette to her mouth, sipping minutely at the smoke. 

"Oh, never fear, Spike - we'll surprise them _all_."

"Your lips, God's ear," Spike murmured, kissing her again, and Dru giggled, and Angelus reached out and changed the station back.

 

'Big'

 

"Oh, man, fucking _witches_ ," Xander said, flopping down on one of the worn-out couches on the ground floor of the Bronze. Forgetting for a minute that Willow and Tara were sitting _right there_ , being all...witchy. It was the bought-illegally-for-him-by-Spike Sam Adams. Had to be. He blinked up into two hard, narrow gazes and looked in panicky desperation toward the _third_ pair of eyes. Slightly addled blue - Spike had a bottle _and_ he'd taken a hard hit to the skull earlier. "Uh! I mean - _that_ witch! From before! That power-hungry, obviously _insane_ witch!" Xander cuddled his beer bottle to his chest. 

"Harris, you wanker," Spike muttered, taking a huge gulp of whiskey. 

"Because normal witches - _real_ witches are good! And - and - nice and love nature and - fluffy - uh - bunnies and - stuff." Xander gulped his own drink, got it down the wrong pipe and choked. Spike pounded him between the shoulder blades.

"I'm okay, I'm okay," Xander said, wincing, and Spike stopped. 

"You sure?" Willow asked, and Xander nodded. "Well - okay. Just 'cause you almost choked, we're going to ignore the witch crack and _not_ do anything really horrible and disfiguring to your man parts."

"Because we're _n-not_ the kind of witches who would do that," Tara added. "Normally."

"Right." Willow smiled, her 'aren't you happy?' smile that meant be happy or _else_. "I think it's time for us to go home. Moving day tomorrow! And you two promised to help, don't forget!"

"Oh, bloody hell," Spike moaned, and Willow's laser-sharp glare sizzled over him, making him flinch. "Yeah, right, moving. Yay."

"It's going to rain tomorrow, so we have to be finished by three," Willow said, with authority, and then deflated just a little under Tara's pointed stare. "And no, I did _not_ do weather magic. That would be crazy, and - and not right and might deprive some poor rutabaga farmer of the rain _he_ needs!"

"Rutabaga farmer?" Xander asked. _*What the hell is a rutabaga?*_

"Rutabagas are important, too," Tara said, and Xander and Spike exchanged incredulous glances.

" _Any_ way - we gotta go. Eight o'clock, boys!"

"Yeah, eight o'clock - see you then!" Xander and Spike watched the girls walk out of the Bronze. Xander looked down at his watch. "It's almost eleven. If we go home right now, get cleaned up and eat something... And take out the trash, damnit, it's Tuesday - we can get seven hours sleep. Seven and a half if we cut it close."

"Or we could get shit-faced and bring Krispy Kremes when we show up at four." 

Xander looked at Spike - looked at his beer - looked down further at the grass, mud, and ichor stains on his jeans. And the scorched holes in his jacket where the witch had flung some sort of - stuff at them. He'd had to body-check Spike and roll him in wet leaves to put the vampire out. There were still leaves stuck in the buckles of Spike's tanker boots.

"Let's get shit-faced."

"Too bloody right. Gimme twenty, I'll go get another bottle."

As Xander dug into his wallet, he had to admit that not getting his change back was gonna be _so_ worth it.

 

"Bloody - _hell!_ Harris, no - look -" Spike swayed, squinting, and Xander leaned closer, squinting as well. They were trying to find a specific episode of season one of 'Queer as Folk - UK'. Because Spike said it was _better_ than the American version, and Xander didn't believe him. Not with the hotness of Brian Kinney strutting around. 

"We were - we were...episode...five. See? Divorce, Janice...Dazz..."

"No - _six_. No – wait…." Xander peered at the little insert from the box. "You're h-holding it _upside-down_ , Sssspike!"

"M' _not_." Spike widened his eyes and then squinted them almost shut again. "Oh, yeah. I am." He let the paper flutter to the floor and flopped backwards. "F-fuck it. Le's watch Law and Order."

"Yeah. Always a Law and Order on...somewhere." Spike grabbed a pillow and shoved it under his head, stretching his legs out on the fold-out couch. Xander did the same, only he was on his belly. Neither one could be bothered to get to the bedroom, and besides – the TV lived out _here_. 

Spike pushed at Xander's feet. "Keep your...smelly dogs outta my face."

"Not smelly. We took'a shower. Shhh! It's Lenny." 

As Xander stared, a glassy expression of happiness on his face, Spike lifted the bottle they'd bought on the way home. Almost empty. _*Might as well finish it off....*_ Spike tipped the bottle up and drained it - let it roll out of his fingers and thump softly to the carpet. _*Shower, yeah...showered...*_ Spike grinned to himself, remembering the shower. There'd been a _lot_ of mutual back-scrubbing. Or...well...not necessarily _backs_. And it took longer for Xander to get off when he was drunk, which was.... _*All fucking good.*_ Spike squirmed a little lower, still feeling that _good_ as a nice little tingling buzz. He put his hand on Xander's thigh.

Xander's head rolled a little sideways and he let out a snore. 

 

_*Oh, my head hurts. Oh, ow, **ow** \- sick, feel sick...*_ Xander rolled carefully over in the bed, his eyes squinted shut. His head _hurt_ \- hurt worse than he remembered it ever hurting before. And his stomach was queasy and his mouth tasted...tasted like maybe he'd been sick once already. _*Oh, not sick in the bed, gross -*_

He pushed weakly at his pillow until he got it to buckle upward and then pushed his head under it and let the cool underside fall down onto his cheek and forehead. " _Oooww...._ " 

_Thump thump thump._ "I know you're in there!"

Xander froze. Thumping - what was the thumping? _*Dad was gonna fix the back steps today. I was gonna help him, I was gonna hold the nails and - and he said I could hold the saw and... Did he start without me?*_

"Mom?" Xander called, and then clamped his jaw shut as a wave of nausea threatened to bring up whatever was in his stomach. There was a long silence.

_Thump thump._ "This isn't funny, Xander! Open the door; we know you're in there! It's almost eleven o'clock!"

Xander curled up tighter on the bed, whimpering. His head felt like the time he'd slipped at the pool and cracked his skull into the side - he'd thrown up into a trash can and his mom had had to take him to the hospital. Even though there hadn't been any shots, he didn't want to go to the hospital again. "I'm sick! My h-head hurts!" It was hurting worse every time he talked but he didn't know what else to do. Finally, he opened his eyes - shoved the pillow back.

"Oh - no, oh -" Xander sat up too fast - put his hand over his mouth, swallowing hard. This wasn't his room, this wasn't his _room_ and this wasn't his bed and -

_Thump_. "Okay! We're coming in! Spare key, so - you better be dressed!" 

There was the sound of a key scraping in a lock and Xander looked frantically around. Room with the bed right in the middle and a tv that was on a big shelf and a kitchen that was - really clean and - _there_. The door. Xander scooted backwards on the bed, hand still over his mouth. The door was _opening_ and this wasn't his room, this wasn't -

"Ahhhh!" The door burst open at the same moment that _someone_ shoved him from behind and Xander screamed. There was someone else in the bed!

"What! What!" A red-haired woman and a blonde-haired woman were standing in the open door looking as scared as Xander felt and he pushed away from the other person in the bed - away from the _women_ and then the bed ran out and he fell right off.

"Ooooow!" Xander screamed and went right on screaming because his head _hurt_ , oh, it hurt so bad and his stomach hurt and the women were talking too loud and _that_ hurt and he didn't care if he was crying. He didn't care if he was a big baby because this _wasn't his room_ and his mom wasn't there. "Mooom! Mooomy!"

"Xander! What's wrong? Xander?" The red-haired woman was standing right over him and her voice was _loud_ and it was too much. Xander leaned forward and threw up.

"I'm s-s-ssiiiick!" he wailed. His puke smelled really gross. It smelled like after Christmas, when sometimes he'd go around and take tastes from what was left in the bottoms of the bottles. It was making him feel like he was going to be sick again. "I - I -"

The blonde woman was suddenly right down next to him, her hand on his forehead. "Do you think you might be sick again?" she asked. Xander hesitated and then nodded finally, because - _*Mom, mommy, wanna go home!*_ she wasn't as loud as the other one and he _hated_ being sick and maybe she could help.

"Okay. Let's just - can you get up? I can't lift you. Let's go in the bathroom, okay?"

"This isn't my hh-house! I don't know where the bathroom is!"

"It's okay, I know." 

Xander nodded - scooted back from the puke and pushed himself to his feet. He was _dizzy_ \- he felt like he was going to fall down and like he was going to be sick again and he couldn't stop crying. The blonde woman was really...short. "Why are you so small? Why are -"

"Let's go in the bathroom first," she said, and Xander let her take his arm and tug him slowly across the room and down a short hall to a small bathroom. There were purple and red and green towels and a shower curtain with big cartoon fish all over it and Xander smiled for a second before he saw some _other_ person was in the bathroom. He jerked, startled - saw the person move, too and - 

"Is that a - a mirror?" 

The blonde woman looked nervous. "Yeah, uh - you want a drink of water?"

"Yeah," Xander said. He sniffed and wiped his nose with his wrist. He wasn't wearing any pajamas, just a pair of baggy underwear like Dad wore. And his feet were really big. "Why are -?"

"Here you go!" the blonde woman said, and Xander took the cup from her and took a big gulp of the water inside. The cup had fish on it, too, like the shower curtain. The cold water hit his stomach and sat there like a rock and then it _wasn't_ sitting there and he leaned hastily over the toilet, glad the seat was up already. 

Throwing up made his head hurt even more and he coughed and choked and was crying again, spitting and his nose running down into the toilet. The woman pushed a wad of toilet paper into his hand and he wiped his nose and his mouth and dropped it in the bowl. "M-my head hurts," he moaned.

"I know, I'm s-sorry. Let's brush your teeth, okay? And here - blow." The woman held more toilet paper and Xander blew hard - let her wipe him up and flush the toilet and put the seat down, just like Mom always did.

"Where's my mom? This isn't my _h-house_ -"

"Xander! P-please don't c-cry, okay? Just - let's brush your teeth, you'll feel better when you get that t-taste out of your mouth, okay?"

Xander wiped his eyes and looked at the woman. Looked _down_ at her and that made him feel sick again. It made his head swim and his legs shake and he sat down hard, banging his head on the wall and feeling the sobs well up again.

"Why am I so b-b-big? Why am I ss-so big?" The lady just shook her head and Xander closed his eyes and cried harder, and then she hugged him. It was kind of okay after that.

 

 

"He's making an awful row in there," William said, watching the red-haired lady mop up the mess on the floor. She wasn't dressed like a maid but she seemed to know what she was doing.

"He's a little - freaked out. We're _all_ a little freaked out. Thank god he's got hardwood," the lady added, and William looked down at the dull, scratched floor.

"I say - you're American, aren't you? Is this - is this America?" The lady paused in her mopping and looked at him.

"Spike, I _swear_ , if this is some kind of - of joke or -!"

"I'm not _Spike!_ I told you, I'm William Huntley!" William felt panic welling up - felt tears stinging his eyes and he clenched his fists tight. _*Don't cry don't cry don't cry!*_ "I live at 17 Gardner Street -"

"I know, I know! You said that. Okay, so - it's not a joke."

"I'm not a joke!" 

The red-haired lady sighed - wrung the mop one more time and poked at the floor. "Okay, that's that. Look, do you - I mean, are you gonna be sick?"

William considered. "I don't feel like it. My head's a bit - thick, but... I'm not ill. Is that man ill?"

"He's in big trouble, is what he is," the lady muttered, and carried the mop and pail away to what William thought must be the scullery. Which was _right there ___, and why was there a bed in the scullery? And why - where - The tears finally overflowed and he ducked his head down, trying not to let her see. Staring at the strange black trousers he was wearing that were coming open in the front. There were buttons and he worked furtively at them, trying to do them up.

"Spike! What are you doing!"

" _Nothing!_ " William blurted, flinching hard from the woman's voice and the shock in it. Staring up at her in terror and not caring that she could see his wet face and runny nose. "I don't - I don't know where this is! I want to go home! I demand you t-take me home!"

"Oh _god_ -"

"Hey, hey, it's okay! Everybody just - just calm down!" It was the blonde lady again, leading the man back into the room. His face was flushed but his hair was combed now, and he had a shirt on. William wished he had a shirt, too, and he pulled the tangled sheet up from the mattress and huddled under it.

"Xander ,why don't you just - just lay back down, okay? I'm gonna get you some soda for your stomach, okay?" The man nodded and crawled onto the bed and William scuttled away, pressing himself into the corner. The man looked at him with big, wet eyes and then curled up on his side of the bed, looking miserable and shivering. 

"My head huurts...."

"I know, Xander. It's okay - I'll get you some aspirin." The blonde lady and the red-haired one went into the scullery and started banging around, whispering fiercely, and William finally leaned toward the man a little.

"Have we been - are we Shanghaied? Is this - are we on a ship?"

"What? What's - shanged?" The man lifted his head a little, pushing back a lock of dark hair. "I don't live here, this isn't my house."

"It's not my house, either," William said, and the man blinked.

"It's not? I thought... Why are _you_ in the bed?"

"I woke up in it, like you did I suppose. Were you - very ill?" William asked, and the man sniffed a little.

"Yeah. My head really hurts. Like when I fell at the pool and hit it and I had to go to the hospital. They took'a x-ray and said I was lucky I had such a hard head!" The other man looked a little happier now and William felt a small knot of tension unkink down in his belly.

"What is an - an x...ray?" William asked, and the man goggled at him. 

"It's where they take a picture of your bones! To see if you broke any. I didn't break any but then I fell off my bike right before Christmas and broke my wrist and had to have a cast and Santa Claus signed it." The man bit his lip and looked over at the ladies, who were still arguing. One was pouring something into a glass. "Are you - do you know them?"

"Oh, no," William said. "I woke up and they were there and you were - um - ill and... She thought my name was _Spike!_ "

"Spike's a _dog's_ name," the man said, and William lifted his chin.

"Yes, I told her she was mistaken. I'm William Huntley." He untangled his hand from the sheet and held it out and after a moment the other man gingerly shook it. 

"I'm Xander Harris. You talk funny."

"You're the one that talks peculiarly! You're American too, aren't you?"

"Yeah - of _course_ I'm American! I live in America!" 

William stared a Xander - stared and felt his chin wobble and his lip and then felt his eyes spill over. Hot, prickling tears that made him so ashamed he wanted to die. The blonde lady was walking toward them and he couldn't stand it one more minute. He lay his head down in his knees and sobbed. "I want to go home! I w-want to goooo hh-hooome!"

"Oh my god, we need Giles."

 

 

William, Xander thought, was weird. He got mad when Willow said he was crying and wouldn't talk to any of them for a little bit. But Tara got William a soda, too, which Xander thought wasn't fair because _William_ wasn't sick. William acted like he'd never had a soda before and he drank some and sneezed and spilled a little and almost cried again.

And Xander almost said something but then he remembered that he'd cried _and_ threw up, so he just sat up and drank a little more of his own soda. He couldn't take the aspirin, though, until Tara put it in some pudding and he just swallowed the whole thing down. He was too little for pills, his mom always said.

Except he _wasn't_ little and William wasn't and - and it was scary. Willow and Tara had got on the phone and called 'Jiles' and had done the whisper-fight thing that grown-ups did sometimes. Xander had got up and went back to the bathroom and used the toilet - carefully, because he was a long way up from the bowl now - and then spent a couple minutes staring in the mirror. The face staring back had bristles like Dad on Sunday and kinda long hair that was floppy. Dad would say he looked like a sheep-dog and Xander sniffled and wiped his nose with some toilet paper and went back out to the living room because he didn't want to think about it. 

Didn't want to think about his Dad trying to find him to fix the steps and he wasn't _there_.

William was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching TV when he came back out. He'd put on his shirt and some socks but no shoes and he looked like he felt cold, sitting all hunched over with his hands tucked down between his legs. Xander sat down next to him.

"What're you watching?"

"I - I don't know. Miss Willow – did it. She said it was - a c-cartoon?" 

"Yeah?" The commercial - for a game Xander had never heard of - ended and then the cartoon came on. "Scooby-Doo!" Xander crowed, and William looked at him.

"I beg your pardon?"

"It's Scooby-Doo, dummy! Don't you like Scooby-Doo?"

"I've never - I haven't seen it. We don't have…Scooby-Doo in London."

"Wow. That sucks," Xander said. "It's really cool. There's this dog, Scooby-Doo.... See? Right there. And his friend Shaggy. And then him and Shaggy and Velma and Daphne and Fred all go around solving mysteries and stuff." Xander bounced a little. This one was a new one - he hadn't seen it before. 

"What sort of mysteries?" William asked. He was leaning forward a little, frowning.

"Like - like there's a ghost haunting a house and everybody runs away but the Scoobies come in and find out the ghost is really just some guy dressed up 'cause there's buried treasure or something in the house and he wants it all for himself."

"Oh." William's eyes were wide, fixed on the TV and Xander stopped talking and sat criss-cross on the bed, watching too. Willow and Tara were sitting in the kitchen and after a minute Willow kind of moved around.

"Are you guys hungry? Xander, do you think you could eat without getting sick?"

"Yeah, I'm hungry. Is there Cocoa-Puffs? I like Cocoa-Puffs or Honeycomb or Sugar Smacks best."

"Yeah, I remember," Willow said, and Xander gave her a _look_.

"How do you _remember?_ "

"Oh! Uh - well, I uh -" She looked really nervous and Tara was touching her arm, kind of petting it.

"You know, it's really weird that your name is Willow too, just like my friend at school. It's a weird name. And she has red hair, too, only hers is longer and she wears sailor dresses instead of that hippy stuff."

"It's not _hippy_ stuff!" Willow yelped.

"My mom says hippies wore long skirts and stuff like that, all colors and stuff." Xander watched Willow smooth her hands down over her long, bright skirt. "I like the purple parts best," he added, because _this_ Willow seemed kind of upset. Like his own Willow got when Cordelia-stinky-Chase-face said mean things about her dresses.

"I like the purple part, too," Willow said finally, and then Tara got up and opened the 'fridge so Xander bounced again, because it looked like they were gonna have breakfast. Now that his head didn't hurt so much and he'd puked, his stomach was kind of rumbley. William looked rumbley, too.

"Hey, William, you like Sugar Smacks for breakfast?"

William thought about it for a minute. "I don't know. I usually have eggs and toast and porridge for breakfast. What are Sugar Smacks?"

Xander laughed, falling back on the bed and making William lurch a little. "What are _Sugar Smacks?_ They're _cereal!_ Everybody has cereal for breakfast!"

"I don't," William said, and Xander laughed some more. 

"You're weird."

"No I'm not!" William looked hurt and maybe a little angry and then Willow came over and turned off the TV.

"C'mon you guys, lets eat, okay?"

"Cereal!" Xander shouted, and jumped up and ran for the kitchen.

 

Mr. Giles was English, which made William feel almost sick with relief. Unfortunately, he seemed as upset and confused as Miss Tara and Miss Willow and after a bit William went back to drawing on the paper Miss Tara had found for him. It had faint blue lines on it and was very thin, and came in pages in a strange sort of notebook with a wire hinge. Xander was still watching cartoons, with a big bowl of popcorn. William had his own, smaller bowl. It was very salty.

"Yes, well, you know my objections, but I agree that this is the best option we have." Mr. Giles was standing over near the sink, looking unhappy - cleaning his spectacles with a handkerchief, much like William's father. William felt a pang of unhappiness at that - his father had been gone for nearly a year, and William missed him.

He looked away as Mr. Giles looked toward him - pretended to be concentrating on his 'journal' as Mr. Giles and the ladies walked over. Miss Willow turned off the cartoons, shushing Xander's immediate objections.

"William, would you please come sit here? Xander - right next to him." The bed in the middle of the room had folded up into a dull-red chesterfield with velveteen upholstery that William knew his mother wouldn't have liked. It had a worn patch on one arm. William got up and sat on the couch, still unsettled by the fact that he was _taller_ than the ladies. But not taller than Xander or Mr. Giles, which felt...better.

"Now - William, Xander. I'm going to tell you exactly what happened to you. It's going to sound - well, fairly unbelievable, but I promise you both - I'm telling the truth." Mr. Giles put his spectacles back on and settled into the wooden chair Miss Willow had brought from the scullery. 

"Boys - magic is real." Mr Giles looked solemnly at them and Xander laughed and so did William but then they both sobered as Mr. Giles continued to look at them. "I know it seems - well, insane, but Willow is going to show you some magic, to prove it to you."

"Is she a witch? Witches do magic - _real_ witches." Xander looked expectantly at Miss Willow and she made a funny kind of face.

"Well, yes. I _am_ a witch. But I'm a _good_ witch, not a bad witch. I'm like - like Glinda in the Wizard of Oz!"

William had no idea what she was talking about and in fact was feeling a little panicked. Witches were _bad_ \- the vicar said so. He shouldn't even be talking to Miss Willow if she was a witch. His mother would be so, so disappointed in him.

"William? William, it's all right." It was Mr. Giles, leaning forward, his big, warm hand resting on William's shoulder. "I know that this talk of witches is - unsettling, but -"

"Mother wouldn't like it at all. Or the vicar, he - he said all witches were minions of Satan."

"Satan! Is he the one with the horns?" Xander whispered, leaning in.

"Yes, he is. Lucifer," William whispered back.

"Ooh." Xander looked up at Miss Willow, eyes wide.

"I'm not a minion of Satan!" Miss Willow exclaimed, and William frowned at her.

"The vicar said you would say that."

"Oh, for - Giles, tell him!"

"Willow -" Giles made a 'be calm' sort of motion with his hand and Miss Willow crossed her arms over her chest, looking a bit angry. Miss Tara touched her arm, petting it again, and William wondered if they were sisters or cousins. They seemed very close. "What Willow says is true, William - she _is_ a good witch. There are some very _bad_ witches and she - she helps me to stop them from doing bad things. Willow -" Giles nodded and Miss Willow nodded back.

"Okay. Now - don't be scared. I promise nothing I do can hurt you, okay? Just - watch." Miss Willow closed her eyes, Miss Tara's hand clasped in hers. She whispered something - Latin, William thought, but he didn't catch it all. Then she held her hand out, palm up. A paleness glowed there - grew - until a light danced over Miss Willow's palm, golden and glowing and sending off little sparks like a collapsing log in a fireplace.

"Oh, wow - look! Will, look!"

"What is it?" William breathed, secretly pleased at the _Will_. He'd never been called that before by a boy - it had a friendly sound.

"It's a Tinkerbell light," Miss Tara said, and Xander put his hand out.

"Can I touch her? I mean - it? It's not - is it _really_ Tinkerbell?"

"No, it's just a light named after her. It helps us at night to - um - to see where we're walking and stuff," Miss Willow said.

"Who is Tinkerbell?" William asked, staring entranced at the glowing, gently coruscating light.

"She's a fairy," Xander said. "From _Peter Pan_ \- don't you remember?"

"I - I suppose not," William said, distracted. He watched Miss Willow lift her palm to her lips and blow gently, and the - Tinkerbell light danced away from her - spun and flitted until it was hovering right in front of him and Xander.

"Can I touch it? Will it let me touch it?" Xander asked, and Miss Willow nodded.

"You can touch it. It doesn't feel like much of anything."

Xander lifted his hand and the light danced through his fingers, and Xander giggled. "Touch it! Will, c'mon, touch it, it tickles!" 

William looked up at Mr. Giles who smiled at him - nodded encouragingly. He lifted his hand and held it out - rather like feeding a sugar lump to Uncle Bayard's gelding. The light twirled through his fingers, cool and then hot and prickly. Ticklish, like Xander had said and William smiled. "Oh! I say, that's - that's actually quite brilliant!"

" _Finis_ ," Miss Willow said, and the light whirled apart and disappeared. Xander made a disappointed noise. "Okay, so - there, magic's real, and I'm a witch, but a _good_ one, and - and Mr. Giles is going to tell you the rest." She squeezed Miss Tara's hand in hers and William wondered just how the vicar had got it wrong.

"Yes, of course." Mr. Giles didn't look pleased at being the one to tell and William felt his shoulders hunching down. He straightened them, lifting his chin. 

"It's all right, Mr. Giles – we'll believe you."

"Yes, well...uh...thank you, William. Now..." Mr. Giles hitched his chair forward a few inches. "It seems, boys, that a witch has put a spell on the both of you. A spell to make you...forget some things."

"What kind of things?"

"Why would a witch want to do _that?_ " Xander spoke at the same time as William and they both looked over at each other, smiling. 

"We're not sure why – I suppose we'll find out when we find the witch. As to what you've forgotten...." Mr. Giles glanced up at the women – cleared his throat. "You've forgotten that you're adults."

 

"I think Mr. Giles is wrong," Xander said. He poked at the macaroni and cheese Tara had fixed, swirling the stripes of ketchup into it. "I think the witch swapped our brains or something. Put us in these bodies."

"Yes, but...." William took a bite of his macaroni and made a little face. "But they knew our names. They were expecting us to be here and...and the clothing that we found fits...." William plucked at the tight black t-shirt Willow had handed him, looking unhappy.

Xander sighed. "Yeah, but...there's no way we're grown ups! I mean...it was my birthday last week! I'm _nine_. I remember. I was supposed to help my dad today. We were gonna fix the back step that got broke. He said I could hold the saw." Suddenly, the macaroni didn't taste very good, and Xander pushed his plate away. "He's gonna be really mad when he can't find me."

"My father's been away in India." William took a drink of his milk. "He's in the Army – he's an officer."

"Is there a war?"

"Oh, no – India is at peace, now, but you can't be too careful, that's what the vicar says." William pushed his own plate away, as well. "I wish the vicar wouldn't talk quite so much. He's always coming 'round and taking up all of Mother's time and making me study my _Ulysses_." 

"What's that?"

"It's a dreadfully boring story. He says I should be able to recite it."

"Oh, homework. I don't have any homework 'cause it's summertime." Xander looked over at Willow, who was sitting curled up on the couch, surrounded by books and papers. Tara was beside her, writing something. Xander leaned closer to William and whispered. "I bet if we say we have to go to the bathroom, we can climb out the window."

William's eyes got very round, and he looked over at the women, too, hunching closer. "But what if we're up high? How will we get down?"

"I dunno." Xander chewed his bottom lip for a moment. "Let's go see. If it's too high we'll just...maybe we can make a rope out of towels or something."

William looked at the women – back at Xander – and then he nodded, his mouth curling a little in a tiny smile. "All right, then – let's go!"


End file.
